


How Do You Sleep?

by ignited



Category: Real Person Fiction, The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-22
Updated: 2005-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:26:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignited/pseuds/ignited
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John/George, R. Set during the summer of 1971 and the making of John's <i>Imagine</i> album. Inspired by <i>Gimme Some Truth</i>, the making of <i>Imagine</i> documentary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Do You Sleep?

The room is too fucking white for this unholy hour in the morning.

Or it's afternoon and George hasn't been checking his watch, he isn't sure. He might not have brought a watch. There, bare wrist, he hasn't - he's brought himself and a guitar and that's enough, isn't it?

And he's got to try and be all earnest, all chipper and nice with a fucking camera staring him right in the face, to 'preserve history' or whatever John called it on the phone that morning. John likes to record himself. Moving image. Preserve yourself, forever. Preserve history and tape the making of your solo album. Lock it up and keep it in a vault, rather, given the track record the band - more like Apple - has with documentaries and other naughty, revealing things.

After George has pondered this for all of two minutes, he remembers he's eating breakfast at John's table, in John's too bright house, and Yoko is giving him a drink. Tea. Coffee. Something to make him tolerate being filmed for the sake of art again.

George will later tell John in private that he needs to change the fucking wallpaper but John will just laugh it off instead.

 

* * *

 

John's sweating, George notices, when he plays the song he wants to record. Piano. Sort of jazzy. Swinging. John goes on, smiling up at him, giddy in that sort of 'I'm aware I'm a genius, you nit' kind of way. George, on the other hand, thinks he needs to take a piss but just scratches his beard instead. He listens to John's song, really _listens_ \-- because one thing about Lennon, is that genius, madman, whatever the fuck he is for the week, he's still a bastard that called you a runt ten years before, so you're completely entitled to flip him off for a shite song and fucking blinding wallpaper - and likes it.

That may also be due to the subject matter and the whole trashing Paul bit, which George has no problem with whatsoever.

So he agrees, he nods, and starts to leave, ignoring the camera nearby, the light's glare. John follows him out, says, "that's the nasty one", or some such - George doesn't care, 'cause he's got to take a piss, y'know.

 

* * *

 

Three takes into _'How Do You Sleep?'_ , John's little ditty, and John's about to go spare on the band. It's not going well. Yoko's giving suggestions. John's chain-smoking. He yells once in a while, and then they're at it again. John's getting into it, twisting his body in that way of his, hunched, stretching, all gangly arms and messy copper hair.

Eventually, the song's just about done. John calls for a break; Yoko says she'll take care of it and that he should go outside, get some air.

By no means does George want to listen to Yoko - or anyone today, for that matter - but George agrees. George also includes himself in this advice because hell, why turn up a reason to get outside and get some air, away from the restrictive studio, and the damn fucking wallpaper?

Though by now the wallpaper is a moot point considering that there's no wallpaper in the studio but there is outside of it and… that has to count for some degree of George's headache.

"Would've done it in the next room over but there's too many of them milling about. And the fucking camera," John says, shoes kicking up dirt and gravel as he pats his trouser pockets. He pulls out a lighter, lights another cigarette. "Right pain in the arse, that is."

"Thought you wanted to preserve history," George says, grins and snatches the lighter right out of John's fingers. He lights his own cigarette. "For queen and country, whatever you called it."

"For Julian to wonder why his father was insane," John answers, walking faster. They reach the edge of the driveway, John continuing to walk down the hill and further into the lawn, the trees surrounding the house. "Went starkers earlier, just for fun. That'll give them something newsworthy for film promotion."

"'Cause the naked album cover went over so well," George says, stopping abruptly. "Where the hell are you going?"

"We, George, we." John points. "We are going to the outhouse."

"Come again?"

"The shed. It's square and big, you know."

"I'm not having a fuck in a fucking shed."

John sighs exaggeratedly. "I didn't say we were having a fuck in a fucking shed, did I, George?"

That's true, because when they get there, John grabs him and pulls, twists his arm and pushes him against the back wall of the house. It's in shadow, in the dark, surrounded by bushes, by the shade of trees. The walls aren't as white. They're grey.

It's also a bit damp and it might rain any second, but they're there. John's already pulling his trousers down as quickly as he can which, for one John Lennon, is awfully fast.

By the time they are done and George has commented on the state of that bright house, and that it's too fucking early, and he's pissed off, he just _is_ , John tells him that he needs to shave.

This much is true.

Oh, and that "it's been ages, hasn't it?" Ages since they last saw each other and clearly, in John's logic, that explains everything.

It might.

 

* * *

 

They record _'Oh, My Love'_ later, a soft, flowing slip of a song. George is far more concentrated in his work but more relaxed all the while. The tension in him has eased, lessened. Might be the sort of nice, romantic song they're doing. Might be the wet and dirty sex on the grass. Might be the fact that if George does a song regarding Paul, clearly his would be superior and there would be cursing involved.

Could be any of those factors really.

He decides that he needs to call Ringo up when they're done for the night and the three should try to get together for a drink come next weekend.

END


End file.
